


Be Strong

by ItsCutterKirby



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Catharsis, Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Guilt, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Passing Out, Sam | Awesamdude-Centric, Sleep Deprivation, Starving Yourself, Whump, ask to tag, i guess, i've never written puffy before sorry if i didn't quite get her right, this is like the angstiest thing i've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 22:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsCutterKirby/pseuds/ItsCutterKirby
Summary: Sam has always been the level headed one. He's the reliable, hard-working, trustworthy Warden. But the death and subsequent resurrection of the person he swore to protect makes him question if he's strong enough to hold his status.Or, tonight on Everyone In DSMP Needs Therapy: Awesamdude!
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Sam | Awesamdude
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Be Strong

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE WE BEGIN: i am well aware c!tommy has a right to be angry at c!sam he's perfectly justified. HOWEVER: i like c!sam let me have this  
> also tell me if i got anything about sleep deprivation wrong idk man i'm just a fic writer

To put it lightly, Sam felt awful.

He had gone to work with nothing in his stomach and not an hour of sleep for too many days (counting the two hours when he collapsed every so often). Not an ideal way to do work, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to complain. Not after what he did.

Sam was not doing well. Between his grief, the Egg, and the overwhelming guilt, he couldn’t afford to take care of himself. So he didn’t.

He had to eat and sleep occasionally, of course, he couldn’t let Dream escape by accidentally pushing himself too far. He had responsibilities.

Sam was exhausted when he went to the prison. He would feed the prisoner, then find somewhere to collapse safely. Ideally his home so he could hug Fran. She made him feel better. He couldn’t let anyone see. He was strong to them. He had to be strong for them.

His plan was halted when he heard a voice that he thought he never would again.

“...Tommy?” His voice was weak. Too weak. 

Sam, at that moment, felt more relief than he ever had in his life. For the first time in over a week, he felt alive, rejuvenated by the apparent resurrection of the kid he had come to protect. He wanted nothing more than to make Tommy feel safe, let him leave, let him be happy. 

But then the moment shattered.

Tommy was angry. He looked worse than Sam had ever seen him, which was saying a lot. He was angry at Sam for leaving him. Tommy yelled at him, told him off, told him he was not fit for running the prison.

Tommy told Sam he didn’t trust him anymore.

And Sam knew it.

The debilitating culpability washed over Sam like waves. Sam sank to the bottom, hearing words he’d been plagued with only in nightmares come out of Tommy’s real, alive mouth.

Sam had taught himself how to hold back crying, how to push it down until no one was around.

That skill came in handy today.

A part of Sam, the one that wasn’t feeling like curling up on the floor, wanted desperately to explain things. That part wanted to tell Tommy how he’s been feeling, tell him that he knew and he was sorry, but Sam had been destroying himself for letting Tommy down, that Sam wasn’t completely to blame.

But Sam just let Tommy yell at him, feeling that part slowly disappear until it was gone.

_~~My best wasn’t enough.  
Tommy doesn’t trust me.  
I failed.~~ _

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Tommy.”

Tommy left.

Sam walked home. He was in a daze, focusing only on where he stepped and the thoughts in his head. The thoughts weren’t very ideal.

_~~I failed I’m a failure I failed him he hates me he hates me I wasn’t strong enough I couldn’t I couldn’t I couldn’t-~~ _

“Sam?”

He bumped into Captain Puffy.

“Hey, Puffy,” he greets. He internally winces at how the exhaustion creeps into his voice.

Puffy reaches a hand out. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit unsteady.”

Sam’s trembling. “I’m fine,” he says, able to keep his voice steady. It’s convincing enough to fool Puffy and himself. He is fine. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

“Well, if you’re not, my office is open,” she offers.

Sam nods. “Thanks, Puffy.”

That should have been the end of it.

Sam was about to wish her well and head home to collapse, but he started to feel too dizzy. Puffy’s voice becomes muddled, unclear, and Sam recognizes that he’s going to pass out.

_~~Not in front of her. Please. Just give me five minutes. Please.~~ _

Puffy voices her concern, seeing Sam get paler even through the mask. Not that Sam could hear her, of course.

_~~Don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out~~ _

Sam collapses in front of Captain Puffy’s feet.

~

_“You failed me,” says Tommy’s corpse._

_Sam bangs on the glass. He can’t get out. He can’t save him._

_He’s in the prison. No, no… he’s in the Egg room. No… where is he? Both?_

_“You failed me,” the cadaver repeats. There’s laughter. Dream’s. He’s in Sam’s head._

_He escaped because Sam failed._

_There was blood on the walls. His. His body. Oh, Prime, his_ body- __

_Tommy’s mutilated form looms over Sam. His eyes are hollow, like sockets._

_“It’s all your fault.”_

_Your fault._

_Your fault._

_Your fault._

_Your fault._

Sam wakes himself up.

He didn’t expect to be in a comfortable bed.

He feels lightheaded. He tries to sit up.

“Hey, lie back down, you’re safe, Sam.”

Puffy. Sam opens his eyes. The light is gentle, not too bright. The sheep hybrid is looking over him, holding a bowl. Food.

“Are you feeling better? You looked startled.”

Sam whimpers pathetically.

Puffy holds out the bowl. “Have you eaten lately? Your stomach was growling while you were unconscious.”

Sam shakes his head. Whether it’s an answer to her question or a denial of food, Sam isn’t quite sure. Puffy gives him the soup anyways.

Puffy sits on the end of the bed. “Do you want to talk about why you passed out in front of me?”

Sam mentally berated himself. How could he be so _careless?_ His one goal was to not show his friends. Not show them how _weak_ he’s been.

“Not really,” he chokes out. His voice is _weak._

“That’s fine for now, just eat.”

 _For now._ Sam doesn’t want to talk about it. Puffy doesn’t need to deal with this.

The soup tastes good.

Sam sits up. “Puffy, I… Thank you.”  
Puffy looks worried. _~~She shouldn’t be worried about me.~~_ “It’s no problem, Sam. You’d do the same for me.”  
He would.

Sam doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” he tries.  
Puffy holds up a hand. “Sam, you don’t have to be sorry. You passed out! Of course I took care of you.”

 _“You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”_ Sam only realizes he says this out loud when Puffy looks at him, taken aback. He attempts to backtrack. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“Sam,” Puffy interrupts, her voice concerned. “It’s okay to need help sometimes.”

 _ ~~It’s not.~~_ Sam stays quiet.

“Sam,” Puffy’s tone is pleading. “Please talk to me.”

Sam’s voice shakes. “I _need_ to be strong,” he persists. “I _have_ to, I can’t-“

Puffy stops him again. “Sam, the strongest thing you can do right now is open up to me.”

Sam looks at Puffy. He sees the genuinely concerned, kind face of his friend. He thinks everything he’s tried so hard to hide, every breakdown, every nightmare, every time he can only think about how much he hurts. The Egg, the obsidian cage, _Tommy…_

And Sam breaks.

The sobs are quiet at first, but they slowly build as the crushing weight of everything he’s been feeling pulverizes him into the metaphorical ground until he’s weeping. Sam cries and cries until he can’t, until Puffy hands him a glass of water (When did he drink water last?), and he cries even more.

“I’m so _tired,”_ he manages through tears. “I haven’t been sleeping because I’ve felt so- so _guilty…_ and- and I can’t tell anyone because I _need_ to be strong for them but it’s not enough! And-“ Sam’s voice breaks. _“I’m_ not enough.”

Puffy embraces Sam. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, keep going if you need. I’m here.”

“I’ve just felt responsible for everything because I’m the ‘most powerful person on the server,’ but I can’t even handle my inmates. I-I let Tommy die, I let Hannah get corrupted, I got _myself_ trapped in the Egg, I couldn’t even destroy it, and it’s all my fault, it’s my fault, it’s-“

“No,” Puffy says firmly. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You followed your rules and took precautions to ensure the inmate couldn’t escape, and that is important. No one blames you, Sam. _I_ don’t blame you, okay?”

 _Tommy blames me,_ Sam remembers, but he keeps silent. Now is not the time to bring up _that_ little detail.

“You don’t have to solve everything yourself, Sam. You are one person. You are allowed to make mistakes, to- to mess up, it’s okay! You don’t have to do everything alone. I’ll help, Foolish would help, Quackity... you have people who care about you, Sam! Never forget that.”

Sam trembles in the Captain’s warm embrace, tears running down his face.

There’s so much he still has to do. He has to make it up to Tommy, maybe leave him be, maybe even step down as Warden, he doesn’t know. He has to get rid of the Egg, help Hannah, free his friends. He still blamed himself for Tommy, the kid did himself, anyway. 

But as he looks down at the sheep hybrid hugging him tightly, saying words he didn’t think he deserved to hear, he realizes that maybe he doesn’t have to accomplish this alone. Maybe… just maybe… Sam could take a step back.

“Okay,” he whispers, and he wraps his arms around Puffy.

“Good,” she replies.

“Puffy?” he asks. “Can I schedule an appointment?”

She laughs lightly. “First session’s free.”

Sam will take her up on that deal.

**Author's Note:**

> this is how i cope


End file.
